“Oh.”
“Make no mistake,” he said. “I did love Annalee and was faithful to her and would have been for the rest of my days had not...” His voice dropped off.
“How could I ever compete with that?” she asked with a strangled cry. “To live under another woman’s shadow?”
He pulled her face to his, staring into her eyes in a way that made her pulse skitter. “How I felt then was the idealistic love of a callow youth. How I feel now, and only for you, beggars all description—defies all reason.”
It was as much effort to swallow the lump in her throat as it was to tamp down her rising hopes. “But we’ve only just met.”
He answered with a low rumble of mirth. “And in four-and-twenty hours, you’ve managed to turn my entire staid and respectable world on its ear.”
She found it difficult to believe, to breathe.
“You are beautiful, clever, passionate and need I add, eminently resourceful.” He grinned. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Phoebe.” He gave her a slow, lingering kiss filled with tenderness and promise. “You will wait here until my return. I may be a while, as I must take care of DeVere and fear that may require a petition to the king himself, though I’m still at a loss how I shall explain how a peer of the realm was mistaken for a drunken footman. My second errand will be to call at Lambeth Palace.”
Her heart fluttered. “The archbishop’s residence?”
“Aye. To obtain a special license. Since I won’t have you as my mistress, I’m asking you to be my wife.”
He waited with a look of expectancy while she found her voice.
She truly was speechless. His words were those she had never expected to hear and filled her to bursting. She threw her arms about his neck. “Yes,” she murmured between the kisses she rained upon his face. “With all my being, my answer is yes!”
EPILOGUE
Thornhill Park, West Riding of Yorkshire
“I just can’t believe it!” Vesta wailed. “Papa just pops off to London a fortnight ago and returns a sennight later with a wife? How could he? And without even consulting me! And that—that...hussy is barely older than I am!”
“Vesta, dearest, I quite understand how you feel after having been his only joy for so long, but it’s hardly the end of the world. You must not despise your father for remarrying. After all, he’s mourned your mother far longer than most men would have done. Besides, he’s still a young man and no doubt has renewed hope for an heir...especially given such a young bride.” It was an effort to contain her bitter jealousy. Diana was as shocked as Vesta that she had waited patiently by Edward’s side for three years just to be thrown over for a London stage strumpet.
Vesta took on an expression of repugnance. “Is that why he’s wed her, do you suppose? Simply to sire an heir?”
Diana took particular care with her answer. “I don’t doubt that’s part of his reason.”
“But must he act such a besotted fool over her?” Vesta asked, near to tears. “Phoebe this and Phoebe that and my darling, sweet Phoebe. It’s enough to make me cast up my accounts.”
Diana couldn’t agree more. “But by all indications, darling, it does appear a love match.” Love, indeed! It is positively indecent how they can hardly keep their hands off one another. The knowing little baggage has clearly pressed her advantage and bewitched the poor devil.
“But it means so very much change! She has already turned the entire household upside-down. Why did he go and do such an addle-pated thing when we were so happy before?” Vesta wailed.
Secretly desiring to throw a screaming tantrum of her own, Diana watched in empathy as Vesta flung herself onto her bed to fully indulge her histrionics. “I know. I know.” Diana embraced the distraught girl, soothing her, stroking her hair. “It must be terribly hard on you, my lamb, but you must at least try to be happy, for your father’s sake.” Or hope Phoebe has a fatal accident.
After several minutes of racking sobs, Vesta bolted upright, her hazel eyes red-rimmed, her dark ringlets in disarray. “But what about you, Aunt Di? I hadn’t even considered how greatly this alters your position.”
Until now, Diana had been mistress of the house in all but name, running the household, playing hostess, and acting as surrogate mother to Vesta. For three years following her husband’s suicide and the death of her cousin Annalee, it had proven a very comfortable and suitable arrangement for all, but now with Sir Edward’s unexpected marriage, more than just Vesta’s world had turned upside-down.
Sir Edward’s purported object in going to London a mere fortnight ago had been to secure a house for the season, a necessity to introduce his daughter to society with the eventual hope of securing a good husband. Instead, he had returned with his own bride in tow after a mere three days acquaintance! And now, comfortably ensconced in the amorous arms of his young wife, he seemed to have forgotten all about Vesta’s come-out, a happenstance the girl had remarked upon with resentment. Vesta had noted and voiced with particular rancor her father’s abrupt change in habits; his late risings, early retirement, and his lessened enthusiasm for estate business.
With growing concern over Vesta’s unhappiness and feelings of neglect, Diana was determined to talk with Sir Edward at the earliest opportunity.
***
Phoebe woke to the sound of a cock-crow and the first rays of sunlight spilling through the window. It was heavenly to be back in the country, away from the muck and grime and constant deafening clamor of the city. The house was spacious, the servants cheerfully efficient, and her chamber lovely, although she would have little use for it. The estate was large and prosperous due to Ned’s assiduous oversight of the smallest details. She loved that about him, his strong sense of responsibility...his steadfast and kind nature...his generosity, especially as a lover. She had never known a man could care so much for her satisfaction or that he could positively delight in her pleasure. She gave a lazy, feline stretch, thinking she couldn’t remember ever feeling more at peace, more fulfilled in her entire life...until she remembered Vesta.
She dearly wished that Annalee’s cousin, Diana, had not been present upon their arrival, but she had cared for Vesta in her father’s absence. It was a detail Ned had neglected to share with her, the close relationship of Vesta and her “Aunt Di.” Although Phoebe had made every effort to be warm, their first meeting had been awkward and in truth, little short of disastrous. Ned had counseled patience, but Phoebe wondered bitterly if Vesta would ever give her a chance with Diana still in the picture.
Refusing to dwell on anything unpleasant when her heart was otherwise bursting with happiness, Phoebe settled her gaze on Ned. Her pulse quickened in admiration of his handsome profile, boyish in sleep, and the subtle curve of his sensuous mouth. She allowed her focus to linger there, wetting her lips with the sudden desire to kiss him awake, but then her gaze drifted lower, over the sculpted muscles of his chest, the erotic trail of dark hair, and her blood pooled hot in her belly. Peeling back the covers, she unveiled the object of her consummate fascination and infinite delight, suddenly filled with the devilish desire to wake him in another manner altogether.
***
Diana had arrived early, intending to catch Edward at breakfast, their customary time for discussing the day’s business, but after waiting an hour, he still hadn’t appeared. Concerned about this deviation from his normally rigid routine, Diana swept into his study with no more than a perfunctory knock.
“Good morning, Sir Edward. We really need to speak about Ves—” The sight greeting Diana nearly made her swallow her tongue.
Phoebe sat astride his lap with her gown pulled up to her waist. His cravat dangled loosely about his neck; his shirt and waistcoat hung open. While the desk standing between the couple and Diana hid the full extent of their depravity from view, it was clear what she’d interrupted. Eyes wide with surprise and bleating a belated squeal at the intrusion, the new bride withdrew so violently from her husband’s embrace that she thumped to the f
loor.
“I—I was just bringing Ned his coffee,” Phoebe stammered, pressing a hand to her kiss-swollen lips while Ned fumbled to put himself to rights.
Nearly as flustered as the concupiscent culprits, Diana backed awkwardly out of the room. “So very sorry... I had no idea... How terribly thoughtless of me...”
She closed the door with a decisive click and leaned against it with a great sigh, her emotions a jumble of shock and envy. Even in the best of times in their early marriage, Reginald had never made love to her outside of her bed, let alone in broad daylight in his study! She realized with a painful wrench that things would never be the same. For Diana, the new arrangement was simply intolerable.
With stinging eyes, she thumped her head softly against the door panel. The action born of frustration jolted her brain, and the obvious answer came upon her like a bolt from the blue. It was so very simple. I will take Vesta to London.
***
“Are you quite sure about this, Diana?” Sir Edward asked when she put forth the notion. “Vesta is a headstrong girl and may prove a greater responsibility than you wish.”
Although his sentiments were all well and proper, Diana couldn’t help thinking his demeanor suggested as much eagerness to remain in his love nest as Diana felt to escape it.
“I foresee no trouble with Vesta,” she said with confidence. “She and I have developed a very good understanding over the past three years. You know, she has become almost a daughter to me.” Or, better said, the daughter I almost had.
He studied her in a long moment of thoughtful consideration. “You aren’t really leaving because...” He looked flustered. “You see, I had hoped you and Phoebe...”
“Would become friends?” she finished with a forced smile. “But of course we shall!” When hell doth freeze over.
“I am so pleased,” he said. “You have been such an important part of our lives. I had feared...” He gave a helpless shrug.
“Don’t be absurd, dear Edward.” She emitted a brittle laugh. “I am delighted that you are so happy.” I just hope you don’t soon expire of a heart seizure out of zeal for your new husbandly duties.
“You are certain that this is what you wish, Diana? To leave Thornhill?”
She played with her gloves, refusing to meet his gaze. “I have long denied myself a trip to London. My gowns are all sadly outmoded, and I shall certainly relish the change in scenery after being buried in the country for so long.”
“Very well,” he said. “You will find the house comfortably furnished and fully staffed. I will, of course, provide a generous allowance for anything either of you should need. If anything unanticipated should transpire, you need only look to DeVere—”
“DeVere? Viscount DeVere?” Diana couldn’t help the twitch of distaste his name brought to her lips. It had been five years since she’d last seen him, and never would be too soon for her to encounter him again. “I assure you we shall need nothing from him. Indeed, I fear even the remotest association with that wastrel might bar Vesta from the better drawing rooms.” It was a plausible excuse and the one she would stand by.
Edward frowned. “Don’t you think that a bit harsh, Di? He is Vesta’s godfather, after all.”
She laughed. “I only wonder what my dear cousin Annalee was thinking to have ever allowed such a thing!”
His frown deepened to a full-blown scowl.
“Oh, don’t look so thunderous, Edward! I know he is your friend, but you know as well as I that his reputation is the lowest, and he revels in it. Vesta may be his godchild, but the less made of it the better.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about him.”
“Lackaday! I only need believe half of it to be reviled. Besides, I do not base my opinions purely on hearsay. I have had sufficient dealings of my own with the man to have his full measure.” She almost bit her tongue on her poor choice of words. His full measure, indeed. The remembrance of it still shook her five years later.
“Surely you don’t still hold him to blame for—
“For Reginald? Not completely.” Diana strolled to the window and gazed out at the vast expanse of park. She sighed long and deep. She chose her next words carefully in the knowledge that the truth of her past connection with the viscount would never be revealed. DeVere had, at least, promised her that much. “We both know Reginald had long made a habit of going for wool and coming home shorn. DeVere was merely the devil’s agent who accomplished the inevitable. Still, one cannot touch...excrement.” She looked to Ned with a meaningful curve of her lips. “And not be defiled. I’d much rather avoid any contact with DeVere.”
“Regardless of your low opinion of him, I would be remiss beyond redemption to allow two women alone in London without benefit of male protection. I would entrust my own life to DeVere and will notify him of your arrival.”
“But—” She spun around, but his darkening look squelched further protest.
“If you wish Vesta to accompany you, I won’t hear another word.”
Though she felt like she was sucking on a lemon, she forced a smile. “Very well. I see I have no choice. If in need, I will call upon DeVere.”
When pigs take flight...
Victoria’s Titillating Tidbits
While I would never presume to call A Wild Night’s Bride anything more than a diverting work of romantic fiction, there were a number of intriguing historical facts that came together to form this story.
In 1783, the Drury Lane Theatre did, indeed, close for renovations.
Mrs. Hannah Cowley’s The Belle’s Stratagem was a wildly popular play and a favorite of the Royal Family who commanded it nearly every season.
Charlotte Hayes presented a subscription-only Otaheitian Feast of Venus at her King’s Place brothel—details of the illicit gathering can be found in Nocturnal revels: or, The history of King’s-place, and other modern nunneries,
M. Goadby, Pater-noster-row, 1779
George IV, as an eighteen-year-old Prince of Wales did, indeed, have an illicit affair with actress Mary Robinson that began with a love letter addressed to Perdita and signed Florizel. He also had a custom of taking locks of hair from his lovers. Upon his death as King George IV, over one thousand of these were discovered. For more details, see my Georgian Junkie blog George IV: An Indolent Enigma at:
http://georgianjunkie.wordpress.com/2010/10/05/the-four-georges-part-v/
BIOGRAPHY
A lover of history and deeply romantic stories, Victoria combines these elements to craft erotic and romantic historical novels and novellas for a mature reading audience. Her writing influences are Georgette Heyer for fabulously witty dialogue and over-the-top characters, Robin Schone, Sylvia Day, and Charlotte Featherstone for their beautifully crafted prose with deep sensuality, and Lila DiPasqua for creative vision in melding history with eroticism. Ms. Vane also writes romantic historical fiction as Emery Lee.
Author Links:
http://authorvictoriavane.com
http://authoremerylee.com
http://georgianjunkie.wordpress.com
“Reckless hearts, battling wits, and plenty of steam in a wonderfully well drawn Georgian setting.” –NYT Bestselling author Grace Burrowes
“Victoria Vane ignites the Georgian era with her delightful characters and deliciously wicked sensuality. Pitting wiles against stubborn wills and innocence against seduction, she leads the reader on a merry chase that will leave you with a grin and a sigh! I’m looking forward to more from this author!” –Allison Chase, author of Recklessly Yours
Reviewer Accolades:
YOU GOTTA READ REVIEWS: A Breach of Promise is a deviously delicious read. Ms. Vane has written an historical romance that is erotic and witty, emotional and sexy. Her characters, whose chemistry cannot be denied, play a mental game of chess and both end up winning.
READING ROMANCES: A talented and skilled author who knows her plot and how to create sexy scenes. This isn’t a story focused on the sexual acts between t
he characters, but much more, a story about the hero and heroine’s life. She’s created a novella with a lot of depth... I expect great things to come from Victoria Vane.
HEART TO HEART ROMANCE REVIEWS: Victoria Vane has delivered a story with historical richness yet one that does not overwhelm the romance nor the delectable love scenes. This beautifully written novella has it all. Historical depth, romance, lush love scenes and gorgeous prose befitting the era. Highly recommended.
BLITHELY BOOKISH REVIEWS: A Breach of Promise is a historical erotic romance filled with humor, passion, and a fun, delightfully sexy storyline. With rich depictions of life, dress, and beautiful period prose, Victoria Vane swept me away to the heart of Georgian era England where I devoured every word, every sigh, every sinfully delicious moment. And even though this story has it all, I was left wanting for more!
MY BOOK ADDICTION AND MORE: What’s not to enjoy when passion, sensuality, trust, mistrust, possible ruin, rich historical romance, and love...hot steamy passion and forgiveness as well as love and romance. A must read for anyone who enjoys historical romance, erotic romance, or a quick fun read that will leave you in awe.
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